I remember when word first reached me about 'this kid with an unbelievable feel for the game . . . always seems to play the right shot at the right time . . . but he's a bit temperamental on court.' That should remind us of someone. All those characteristics are still there.
The first time I ever really met Andy was when he came to Luxembourg as a hitting partner to the Davis Cup team in 2004. It was funny because I knew I was one of his heroes when he was growing up, but it wasn't obvious from the way he behaved. I think I had been much more unsubtle when I met my own hero, Stefan Edberg, who used to live and train in London. The first time I ever hit with him I'm sure I was just staring at him and making a fool of myself.
With Andy, even though he was struggling with the knee injury, you could tell he was listening, taking things on board. I think he's very perceptive and a quick learner. Off the court, however, we played stupid games for much of the time. My sense of humour can be quite childish and I'm very good at silly things like juggling rackets or mobile phones, or lobbing screwed up balls of paper into bins. I've always been into games and jokes, and I'm sure I played a few practical jokes on Andy.
There was the time, at the end of 2006, when I was under some pressure to return to the Davis Cup team. The matter came up for general discussion and Andy being Andy, when asked by the press, said he thought it might be better to play someone younger, for the future of British tennis. I sent him a message saying: 'Thanks for the vote of confidence. Good luck in April' (when the next round of the Davis Cup would be played). He tried to call me so many times because he thought I was seriously pissed off. Every time I saw his number I ignored it. He sent messages saying: 'I don't know if you're really cross or joking, but I'm really sorry . . .' After about three days, I felt a bit guilty, so I called him up, laughing, and said: 'Don't worry, I was joking.'
That's what I'm like with people I know and, I suppose, trust. It's different to when I'm in a press interview room with my guard up. There have perhaps been two different people throughout my playing career. Me with friends, me with the media. I think, that's why Andy was surprised to meet a completely different character to the one he was expecting. It is more a true reflection of who I really am, but my defence mechanism blocked it from the outside world. I know my apparent character hasn't always appealed to everyone.
I was aware how difficult it might be for Andy to make the step up from juniors to seniors. Every time you go up a level, from satellites to Challengers, main tour to grand slams, it can be a somewhat intimidating environment, and I tried to put myself in Andy's shoes. I will go out of my way to help people I care about. He was a young British guy who I had heard a good deal about and I definitely wanted to make him as comfortable as I could. If that's what he says too, I'm glad he feels that way.
His progress was pretty rapid, and I was obviously keeping an eye on his results. Queen's 2005 was a big breakthrough and we nearly ended up playing each other there. That would have been one for the media. I was due to be his next opponent if he had beaten Thomas Johansson instead of hurting his ankle and then getting attacked by cramp. He was still very raw, but he was also playing to a really high level. I had a feeling it wouldn't be long before he was appearing more regularly in the same tournaments as me.
I was right. The next tournament was Wimbledon and while I was knocked out in the second round (for the first time in a decade) by Dmitry Tursunov, Andy went on to the third round where he played David Nalbandian. I remember texting him to wish him luck. I can't recall what I said. Probably: 'Keep your head down and enjoy it.' He did. I could see he was streets ahead of me when I was the same age. I had lost 6–2 6–1 in the first round of the Wimbledon Juniors when I was seventeen. That put his progress in perspective, especially as your first senior Wimbledon provides an intense spotlight. You're growing up in front of everybody's eyes. That isn't necessarily easy and your mistakes can be magnified. You just have to try and embrace it as much as you can and he did. That's why I think he has a really mature head on his shoulders.
He wasn't a lost soul in the Wimbledon locker room. Far from it. He believed he was meant to be there. I'm sure he felt nervous coming into the first round with the likes of Federer and Nadal, not to mention the senior players like McEnroe and Becker, but he had this inner belief that he was where he belonged, so he might as well get used to it. It comes across to me that he's always believed he's going to be a great player. This is just part of his journey. His career has not necessarily taken him by surprise. If you've always had those dreams and aspirations, you might surprise a few people around you, but you yourself think: 'This is what I've been waiting for.'
Our next grand slam together was the US Open a couple of months later, where I went one worse and lost in the first round. Andy says I lost to him on the golf game in the players' lounge as well, but I don't have a clear memory of that. I do recall there was this Sega tennis computer game and I was one of the players you could choose to be. Ironically, I was hopeless at it. I was never really into computer games, but Andy was phenomenal on it. I'd go and watch him when he played. He usually chose to be me and then played the most ridiculous shots (way beyond my game). That is the other side to him. He's still a kid. He's as happy as can be playing on those games, and yet an hour later he could be on the stadium court in real life, playing one of the best players in the world. It was pretty amusing.
I spent quite a lot of time with him and it never occurred to me that I was being nice to a rival. I've always had great friendships with various players, like Pete Sampras, Todd Martin, Roger Federer, and it has never bothered me in the slightest when I had to play them. I played Federer thirteen times in my career (7–6 to him) and it wasn't because we were friends that I lost those seven times.
This is where the men's tour deals with some things a bit better than the women's tour. You can go out on the court and do everything you can to beat your opponent, and when it's finished you can shake hands and go and have a beer. On the women's tour it seems that the rivalry lasts a bit longer. They're not able to separate the two things so easily. I got on really well with Andy. I wanted to try and help him, to pass on a few things I'd learned over the years, but it was never going to detract from how hard I was going to try when I did finally play against him.
That collision turned out to be much sooner than I thought. It was four months after his Wimbledon debut, the first round of the Basle tournament – just another match on the circuit, but at the same time very much not just another match. The British media always made sure any clash between us countrymen took on much greater significance than it deserved. Whenever I played Greg Rusedski the match was always blown out of all proportion. I desperately wanted to win but luckily I always felt totally comfortable and confident going in against him. I must admit when I played Andy, it was different.
His game doesn't really suit me. The last thing a serve-volleyer needs is someone who can hit inspired passing shots from the baseline. Andy is more a counter-puncher, and I felt I was overpressing because of his style of play. At Wimbledon, I never felt any great burden of expectation – and I think that's credit to me – but when I played Andy I did feel the pressure. For some reason I put extra pressure on myself which was stupid. I already had a good player in front of me, I didn't need to make it any harder.
It was an uncomfortable match, mentally and physically, and he should have beaten me quite easily. In the end it went to three sets and was settled in the final set tie-break. I did discover the next day that I had fractured my rib, but, much as I would like to say it affected the match, I had no idea at the time and felt 100 per cent fit. Funnily enough, I knew Andy was upset afterwards. I could see he had tears in his eyes and was pretty affected by it. Disappointed as I was, I took that as a real sign of his respect for me. It was noted. You remember that sort of thing. When I retired I suddenly heard what my peers thought of me. As much as you can be moved when Barry Flatman of the Sunday Times writes something nice about you, what means most to an athlete is the good opinion of your peers.
Obviously my defeat was treated as highly significant at the time and I asked the press afterwards what exactly it was I had just handed to Andy: 'Is it a baton, is it a torch, is it a flag, is it a crown? Whatever it is, he's welcome to it.' I meant it. With his game, it wasn't going to be long before he overtook me. It wasn't upsetting. He was the future. I'd been in that position for such a long time. There had been my rivalry with Greg in which I had mainly had the upper hand, but this was a young guy coming up, ready to overtake and he deserved it. Rankings don't lie. You don't buy your ranking points, you earn them.
We played four times before I retired. He won the first three, but I pulled one back in our final match in Bangkok in 2006. I played a lot better to win 6–4 6–2 and this time he wasn't so calm. He was losing his temper and getting mad with his coach, Brad Gilbert, on the side of the court. Those were all good signs to me.
It was a fine win for me because I beat a good player but, once again, there was that extra edge that comes from being fellow-Brits. It is ridiculous really. When two Argentinians play one another, or two Frenchmen, or two Spaniards – which they do, week-in, week-out – nobody takes any special notice. Our culture doesn't play by the same rules. Two Brits going head-to-head always causes a stir. I understand why. It's about scarcity value. There are so few players at the top level, these matches are always going to have an extra dimension.
In the short time we were on tour together, I actually like to think I helped make Andy a better player. Did it help him beat me eventually? It may well have done, but I don't view it like that. It was a role I enjoyed. We talked a lot about things like schedules and, of course, the press. I remember having dinner with him in Cincinnati in 2005, during his first few months on the tour, and not being afraid to give him my advice about things like that. With his temperament and his personality you could see that it was going to be much more confrontational with the press than it ever was with me. That can work both ways. It certainly would make the media's job fairly entertaining and, at times, it can motivate you as a player. At other times, it might get in your way a little bit. But you learn as you go along.
You'll never change him. That's why he's so good. He's got that competitive nature and he expresses it fairly freely, but obviously he needs to channel it. I would say my main concern regarding the press is that lots of opinions are going to be expressed about Andy and sometimes he's going to get a little bit affected by them, not to mention a little frustrated. In my opinion, that's not going to do him any favours. He shouldn't be influenced. He sometimes gets a bit caught up in it. That's just a distraction and he's got enough to concentrate on already. He might be completely right, but he's never going to be able to correct the media. If he's confrontational, he's fighting a battle he definitely can't win. If that's the reality of it – and it is – you're better focusing your attentions elsewhere. I think you've got to have a thick skin and get on with it.
I learned from my mistake at Wimbledon when we were talking about equal prize money in the late 1990s. I tried to give an educated answer in a press conference, and because I was on the Player Council at the time I had all the facts and figures. I finished off by saying that if the women wanted more money, I thought they were being a little bit greedy. That, to me, was the end of it.
Then I came into Wimbledon the next day and there were probably eight or nine cameras crews jostling to talk to me, saying: 'Do you stand by what you said about equal prize money?' I said, genuinely bemused: 'What did I say?' For the next forty-eight hours it was a complete distraction. That's why you end up playing a straight bat. The next time I was asked about women's prize money, I said something like: 'It's nothing to do with me. I'm just here to concentrate on my tennis.' Now I was labelled the boring idiot. Talk about a rock and hard place.
When Andy tells people I'm quite a comedian, I can imagine them being completely unable to believe it. That's why I say I'm two people. I ask myself about that sometimes, but, even with hindsight, if you asked me would I do anything differently, I wouldn't. I don't let everyone in. That's just my way. When I'm around my close friends, they do see a different person. I'm fine with that. I'm totally comfortable that I chose to do things that way because maintaining an element of privacy has always been important to me. That's not right for everyone but that's the way I am. If the world thought I was boring rather than funny, then that doesn't bother me. I'm not in a popularity contest and nor is Andy.
I've always been honest to myself. I haven't tried to put on any false fronts and play a game I'm not interested in. Andy isn't a million miles away from that either. He's more expressive on court with his emotions, but he's pretty reserved off the court. He needs to trust people first and it doesn't take much in our position for your lack of trust to increase when you've been burned a couple of times.
I was there when he earned his reputation for being anti-English and it was a complete joke. In both senses. It was during an interview with a journalist at Wimbledon 2006 when England were preparing to play Paraguay in the World Cup, and the whole thing was just good banter. We were laughing and giggling. I was teasing him about the Scots not being there, and when the journalist asked Andy who he would be supporting, Andy said: 'Anyone that England's playing.' Before you know it, someone's picked it up as though he was being serious and that kind of thing is a pain in the arse. It's a joke. Why can't people take a joke?
I don't need to tell you that that sort of thing is where the press can shoot themselves in the foot, because all of a sudden a player like Andy isn't going to give as much, especially when things like that keep happening. He'd been through it before in Adelaide that year when he said after a match that he and his opponent had been serving 'like women'. He meant they had both dropped their serves a good deal, which happens in women's tennis. It was a joke, no more than that, and suddenly they're having phone-ins on BBC Radio.
In 2008, he was taking flak again for pulling out of the Davis Cup tie to Argentina. That was a little bit different because I thought it was just badly handled. If Andy's knee was bad, then his knee was bad and that should have been the end of the argument. However, at the time, his brother didn't know anything about that and that was rough.
At a slightly different level, when Federer and Nadal pull out, they say straight out: 'I'm not playing' and that's their prerogative. That's not to say I necessarily agree with their decision – I played for twelve years before I pulled out because my body was falling apart – but it is still their decision to make. They say: 'No, it doesn't fit into my schedule' and that's that. Andy's entitled to say that too. If, for whatever reason, he doesn't want to play, he should say so and let the right people know in time. I thought the way the whole story unfolded became a bit messy.
You do have to remember, though, that he's twenty. I was in exactly the same boat regarding public relations at his age. Would a better relationship with the press have made me a better tennis player? No, so I wasn't interested. Could it have made my life a little bit easier? Yes, I think it could. But you don't see that at twenty. You're not interested. That's why I think it's important for the people with experience around you to guide you. They don't have to change him, but a little guidance at this stage can go a long way. I'm talking with hindsight, though. At the time, you go with what you think is best. It's only later, maybe ten years down the line, you think: 'Maybe I could have developed things differently,' but you just don't know it at the time. Isn't that life?
Likewise, Andy would be naïve and silly to think he knows everything about tennis already. I look at his game and I see some things he is doing so well now and I think: 'Brad Gilbert told you that twelve months ago.' I look at his serve. He's standing up to the line, cracking it into both corners and that's a huge weapon. Brad was keen on that, but for whatever reason it took its time to get through. That's the reality of dealing with a strong-willed kid.
I remember myself at his stage. It's very difficult when you've gone from being 800 in the world to 400 to 150 to 29 to 17 and then people come along and tell you to do things differently. You think: 'Hang on a minute, I'm not bad the way I am.' You look at your progress and say: 'If it ain't broke don't fix it.' Andy's listening to people telling him what to do and he's saying to himself: 'I rate myself. I think I'm pretty good and those results aren't bad either.'
It's tough for a coach. Dealing with your own children is hard enough, but dealing with someone who is not only young but also one of the best players in the world is never going to be easy. Maybe that's why I won't go into coaching. Maybe. But never say never.
I wasn't surprised when he split with Brad. It was a huge clash of personalities. It was unfortunate the way their relationship was managed because Brad is one of the best coaches in the world, no doubt of that. His knowledge of the game is second-to-none, but his personality is sometimes not that easy to gel with. The fact they were spending so much time together – breakfast, lunch, dinner 24/7 – was difficult. It's hard enough with your wife, let alone your coach. When you've got personalities that different, there was never going to be dull moment – but to focus on the positive, look what they did together. In eighteen months Andy's game came a long way, he had a string of great results and he reached the top-10.
It has all happened so fast and he hasn't even learned to play backgammon properly yet. He's rubbish at it. And he's a little slow in paying his debts. It's true, the tale he tells about the backgammon set I wouldn't buy him for his birthday. I'd seen it – a small wooden travel board – in a shop and I was going to put a card in with it saying: 'Get some practice. You need it!' But when I went in to buy it, I was told it cost £500. I thought: there's no way I'm spending that on him, I'll get a plastic one. I don't mind spending £500 on the right person, but not some whippersnapper.
But I have to admit his potential as a tennis player is enormous. The way I look at it now, Federer, Nadal and Djokovic are the top three players, in the world but then there's the chasing group and Andy pretty much heads that. It makes me laugh when people say accusingly that he hasn't yet won a grand slam. How many has he played? He'd been in eight up until the start of 2008. Look at Federer and how long it took him. He played seven before he reached his first quarter-final. He played sixteen before he had his first win at Wimbledon in 2003.
Patience is a word that people are not very keen on, but I don't have any worries about Andy's future possibilities. He beat Federer in Dubai in early 2008 and a reflection of how well he served is that he did not face even one break point. That tells you that you're serving pretty damn well. He's so good when he's proactive like that rather than reactive. He can react as well, because he's a very good athlete, but if the ball's there to be hit, hit it. He is doing it more. The modern player, someone like Jo-Wilfried Tsonga who beat him in Australia, possesses the fire-power to hit you off the court so you can't keep running and running. It's hard if you haven't got the artillery to compete, but Andy's got it. He's got all the shots. So why not use them? I have no doubt that with (his) time and (our) patience, he'll learn to use his game to maximum potential.
I'll watch him with interest. You won't catch me at the French and US Opens, but I am sure I will be at Wimbledon in future to see him. I'll sit in a comfortable seat on the Centre Court and just be grateful it isn't me out there any more. I had no idea how nice it would be to get away from it all. In all those years I played Wimbledon I never felt there was a burden on my shoulders, but after my last professional match, the Davis Cup tie against Croatia at Wimbledon, I went for a long walk with our dogs, Bonnie and Bumble, and I felt a weight had been lifted from me after all. I was so relaxed. I'd never known life without it before. It was the absence of weight I was feeling.
I cannot tell you how much I have enjoyed life after tennis, being at home with my family, playing golf, having a few holidays, without looking over my shoulder at the next training session. Everyone said: 'Oh, just wait, you're going to get itchy feet,' but I have to report it's not happened so far. Maybe it will, but all I feel now is this real sense of freedom. It might be normal to most people, but I'd had such a structured life – tournament, practice, dinner, match, hotel, flight for thirteen years – it was unknown to me.
So that's why I was so happy to hand over the baton/flag/crown, whatever it was, and he can count on my whole family to be some of his best supporters. My oldest daughter, Rosie, knows who Andy Murray is. She remembers when he twisted his ankle at Queen's. She was very upset at the time for him and whenever she sees him now, she says: 'That's Andy Murray. How's his ankle?'
If Andy ever does win Wimbledon, it won't be a bitter-sweet moment for me. Good luck to him. I've had my time. If he wins a grand slam, it won't make me a worse tennis player. There are a few guys I would rather didn't win because I don't like them, but I'll always support him. We still text message each other all the time, especially when Greg Rusedski was performing during the winter of 2007 in ITV's Dancing On Ice. Andy and I are pretty united in our certainty that we would never, ever appear on a programme like that. Put it this way, there's as much chance of me writing an autobiography as doing that.
There is no final piece of advice I'd offer Andy, unless he asked me to. It is his life, his career Anyway, how can you improve on what I've already told him. 'Keep your head down and enjoy it!'